Letters to Holly

Monday, July 7

July 4 Weekend

We got an early start as I stayed home Friday and slept late. Scattered rains allowed me to sleep in and ignore the garden, at least until Saturday. We watched Wanted Friday afternoon because Your Sister was dying to see it.

"It looks just like The Matrix, I said.
"And would that be so bad?" she asked.

So off we went. It's more like The Matrix, meets Fight Club, and no, that's not so bad. It has some nice photography choices too. This director could make some significant movies in the near future. The movie has little to do with the original comic, and that's to the film's advantage. It wasn't a great book.

The town held its annual holiday street fare, which I hate and despite and detest and loathe. The sounds of synthesized pan flute covers of '90s ballads overpowered everything else, and this is why there's a waiting period to buy guns. The festival also makes leaving town a protracted exodus.

We accidentally met up with some teacher buddies and had a leisurely dinner. A last-minute drive to find decent space to watch fireworks was for naught. We even scaled the high-school bleachers to see them, but the fog obscured them. No big deal. We went home and watched the various holiday specials on TV. I was horrified to see Keith Lockhart direct the Pops through a country version of Life Is A Highway, and I almost reached for the salvation of beer to dilute the pain. We didn't sleep well that night; the neighbors shot their fireworks until 2:30.

I fertilized the garden Saturday morning. Everything looks good. The corns is spindly, but we should get a few good ears before fall. We will have tons of squash. I may have planted the garlic upside down.

A quick haircut followed, and we drove to Greenville for the wedding of a former co-worker. He was my editor at the weekly, and I knew his bride from before I moved to Mayberry. I met up with them once in Boston during New Year's in 2005. This was our first wedding since we were married; we must have attended a half dozen when we dated. The little flower girls sparked another conversation about kids (survey says: no), and the new husband suggested I contact him at his new paper for possible illustration work. It was a lovely and cool wedding. They used the theme of Hawaii for the groomsmen (they lived there for two years while he worked for another paper), and bride designed her own dress (just like Your Sis). It rained buckets immediately after we got into our car to to drive to the reception.

It continued to rain most of Sunday. We tracked down documentary DVDs at the local movie shops for Your Sister's AP class and watched the men's final of Wimbledon. It lasted approximately three weeks. We also spent much of the weekend watching Olympic trial coverage, highlighted by runners diving across the finish line to make the team. We ended the weekend with Scrabble for the first time since, I think, we moved in the house. I'd like to play more of that. Or Guitar Hero.

We're now scheming a weeklong vacation around your ECU ceremony, and we're looking at doing touristy things at the Outer Banks. We might take surfing lessons. But we first must work on our base suntans, lest we turn lobster. Also? We might eat lobster. I don't think I ever have. You, Mark, and we will get together for a meal during that week. And, no, I'm not trying to set you up with him. Honest.

Mom is OK. I continue to have weird Dad dreams. I told Your Sis that I'm still digesting the past month in case she thought I was mad at her about something.

Picture of the Day
Dying dying dying to see Dark Knight.

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